Nostalgia
by madsthenerdygirl
Summary: It's not rekindling the flame so much as adding fuel to the fire.


**Title: Nostalgia**

**Rating: Stana Katic. That is all.**

**Summary: It's not rekindling the flame so much as adding fuel to the fire.**

**Disclaimer: Last three episodes of season five? What last three episodes of season five?**

**Dedication: All of it is CJ's fault. Every. Last. Bit of it.**

* * *

Castle heard laughter and glanced over. Beckett had her head tipped back, her teeth flashing. He felt himself smile softly. A year and a half of marriage and he still got that melting feeling every time he looked at her.

The fact that the person making her laugh was Demming didn't bother him in the slightest.

Demming had shown up in connection with a case they were working, and had taken the opportunity to catch up with Beckett. It had been over four years since they'd last seen each other, and a lot had happened since then. Demming had a girlfriend of two years now that he was thinking of proposing to, and Beckett, of course, had gotten herself hitched to one roguishly handsome best selling author.

In fact, it looked as though she was telling Demming about the wedding at that moment. She was making a gesture with her hand, her hair swaying gently as she moved her head, her eyes gleaming. She caught him staring and her lips curled softly upwards. It was that small, private smile she gave only to him. He lost himself in the sight of her for the moment, before she turned back to Demming and continued her story.

God, had it really been over seven years that they'd known each other? Over seven years since she'd first waltzed into his book signing, no nonsense face set and arms folded. Over seven years since he'd first made her smile, her mouth softening and pulling back to reveal her teeth, smile lines tugging at the corners of her lips. Over seven years since she'd tilted her chin up and whispered in his ear that _he had no idea_.

He really hadn't.

He remembered the first time she'd spoken in her Russian accent, the first time they'd finished each other's sentences, and the first time she'd rolled her eyes at one of his theories. There was the first time they'd hugged, her lithe body pressed against him and the sweet smell of her hair in his nose. Their first kiss, done under the guise of an undercover assignment, the taste and feel of her completely overwhelming him. And of course all of the cases they'd solved. The vampire case, 3XK, the comic con… and Johanna Beckett.

Personally he thought jail was too good for Bracken, but he's supposed to be upholding not breaking the law and all of that.

Anyway, watching Kate with Demming and feeling no stab of jealousy—because there was no need for it—was really taking him back. He still had no exact reason as to why she'd chosen to spend the rest of her life with him (he told her so about once a week) and he suspected at this point that he'd never figure it out.

Didn't mean, of course, that he couldn't show his appreciation.

He wanted to do something for her. Nothing big or she'd think (wrongly) that he was trying to make up for Demming's presence, but… he just wanted to remind her that he loved her. It had been over a year of marriage but he never wanted her to forget, never wanted her to think they'd settled into a routine and become boring in the way that she'd always feared. It wasn't so much rekindling the flame so much as fanning it.

And let's be honest—his wife was hot enough to start a forest fire.

* * *

Kate let herself into the loft, leaning gratefully against the door as it shut behind her. It had been great to catch up with Demming, but the case itself had been exhausting. Rarely had she been so glad to get out of the precinct. She looked at her watch. It was one a.m.

"Rick?"

The loft was dark and her husband was conspicuously absent. Senses on high alert, Kate moved through the apartment, heading for the bedroom. He could very well have fallen asleep watching _The Wives of Wall Street_ or something.

Nope. Bedroom was empty.

Beckett headed up the stairs. Maybe Alexis was staying the night and they were talking?

Alexis' bedroom was empty, as was Martha's. The guest bedroom, however, had a light on. She entered carefully, but stopped short when she realized what had happened to the room.

The bed, chest of drawers, and all other furniture had been moved out of the room, replaced with a large desk, a set of chairs, and bookshelves. The walls had been repainted and her favorite pieces of art hung on them, glowing softly in the light from the lamp.

"Do you like it?"

Kate turned to see Rick standing behind her, hands clasped behind him. He was grinning like an idiot but there was a darting nervousness in his eyes.

"It's all yours. I know it might not be as private as you like but you said a couple weeks ago that you wanted your own space—something just for yourself—and it's not like we have guests over anyway and–"

She kissed him, smiling as she felt his fingers instinctively tangle themselves in her hair. "I didn't think you were paying attention," She admitted. She'd felt guilty even mentioning it, worried that he'd take it the wrong way. It wasn't like she loved him any less—she'd just come to value her independence and quiet, and having someplace that belonged only to her was something she'd missed.

"I always listen," He promised.

After over seven years of this, you'd think she'd have remembered this.

"C'mere."

She grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him back into the room and kicking the door closed behind her (who knew when Martha would waltz in).

"Kate, this is your–"

"Space, I know. My territory. But I've invited you in. And besides—we have to christen the desk."

His pupils dilated in the blink of an eye (pun intended) and she knew she had him. With a grin she turned and sauntered over to the desk, setting the lamp down on the floor and perching on the edge. When she saw that Castle was still standing there, mouth agape, she crooked a finger at him.

That seemed to start up his brain again, and he practically stalked towards her, planting his hands on either side of her on the desk and kissing her as deeply as humanly possible. She moaned, knowing he liked the feel of the vibrations, and got a pleased little growl in return. She ran her fingers up his chest, slipping each button out of its hole, working her way downwards. Once those were taken care of she pushed his shirt off, sliding her hands around his sides to pull him flush against her, opening her legs. She could feel him straining against the fabric of his pants and she shivered, breaking the kiss to heave a breath of air.

"Not to mention," She purred, trailing her nails up his chest and neck to spear them in his hair, "Good boys get rewarded."

Rick made a strangled sound and crammed their mouths together again, raking his tongue over the roof of her mouth. She arched against him, wishing (not for the first time) that buttons and zippers and clothes in general didn't exist.

He broke away and she groaned in frustration, but then his lips were at her throat, sucking what would inevitably turn into a ferocious hickey, and one or both of them were struggling with zippers and snaps and _thank God_ she had him, hot and heavy in her hand, and she just had to spread her legs a little wider (shit, her shirt was still on) and he could slide home and _fuck_ yes.

She had to lean back on her elbows, her head falling against the desk, but Rick at to lean forwards so that was all right. And this angle was fucking perfect. They needed to do it on a desk more.

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" Rick growled, frustrated.

"Because you—ah—were too damn impatient," She gasped back.

"Takes two, Kate," He whispered, his breath hot against her clavicle.

She wrapped her legs around him as best she could, running her palms over the smooth skin of his shoulders, trying not to dig her nails in too much and probably failing miserably. They were moving erratically, hard and fast, and he was hitting her in just the right spot over and over again, the desk felt like it was starting to move but really who the hell cared about furniture when he was making her see stars just like that, _fuck_ Rick just like that, don't ever fucking stop–

Those were definitely teeth at her collarbone and she knew she was going to have purpling bite mark to cover up in the morning, but it was a little hard to care when she was riding this high.

"I should do things for you more often," Rick panted, his voice muffled from his face being mashed into the crook of her neck.

"You do plenty," She assured him, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

"I just got to thinking about all we'd been through and I wanted to do something," He explained, pushing himself onto an elbow.

Kate smiled, teeth and all. "It was perfect."

She kissed him, slow and deep, and let him drag her off to bed.

* * *

**It's one a.m. I dashed this off in about twenty minutes and I'm hopped up on Cheez Itz so if this isn't up to snuff, blame that. Reviews are always welcomed!**


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